


Warmth

by icarus_chained



Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Aftermath, Awkwardness, Developing Relationship, Hopeful Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Keepsakes, M/M, Post-Finale, Post-Zero Hour, Spoilers, reconnection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-26
Updated: 2017-03-26
Packaged: 2018-10-11 04:49:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10455369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icarus_chained/pseuds/icarus_chained
Summary: Zeb and Kallus, in the aftermath of Zero Hour. Someone needs to put Kallus back together, or near as can be managed.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I am new to this show and I started literally at the end, but my sister introduced me to Space Javert and his and Zeb's enemy mine thing after 'The Honorable Ones' and then the whole spy thing and then I watched the finale and it's not my fault, I swear it's not my fault. I just ... wanted a little something? Heh. Apologies if I've gotten anything wrong, I now need to go back and catch up with the show properly -_-;

He waited until they were well underway and had things organised as much as possible before he went to look for Kallus. Maybe he felt a bit bad about that. All right, maybe more than just a bit, when he finally got a good look at 'im, all battered and bruised and huddled in against a wall. But, well. If anyone would understand priorities in a crisis, it would be this man. Zeb was pretty sure of that.

"... Hey," he said softly, coming to an awkward halt in front of him. Kallus twitched a bit, startled out of an exhausted fugue, but he managed a little curl of his lip when he saw who his visitor was. Zeb smiled back, a little hesitantly. "I, ah. I see you're done taking chances with the Empire, eh?"

He winced almost the second he said it, but Kallus just gave this tired sort of a laugh. More than tired, really. If it'd been anyone else, Zeb suspected there'd have been a bit of hysteria in there. Karabast, not even someone else. Kallus was doing just fine on his own.

"Yes, well," the ex-agent, ex-spy sighed. "They're, they're rather emphatically done taking chances on me. As you can see." 

He grimaced ruefully down at himself, and Zeb grimaced along with him. Yeah. Yeah, he could see all right. Done a real number on him, right enough. Way he was hunched in over his ribs would tell anyone that from a mile away. And they were sorted now, or as much as they were going to be for a while. Time to get that seen to.

"Yeah," he said, reaching out carefully to curl a hand around the man's arm. Kallus eyed it warily. Couldn't blame him there. "I can see that, all right. You been looked at yet?"

Kallus blinked at him. "It's, ah. It's all right," he said, more than a little uncertainly. "It's mostly bruises. Thrawn. He, ah. He packs more of a punch than you'd think."

Zeb snorted. "I'll bet he does," he growled, but he wasn't fooled. Not for a second. He gently peeled the man up off the wall to standing, and was pointedly unsurprised by the wince of pain that Kallus didn't quite manage to hide. "I don't know why you bother, you know. It's not like I haven't seen you with broken bones before. Ribs, yeah? Couple of other bits and pieces too, I expect. You really gonna try and have me believe he let you off with a punch or two?"

Kallus dropped his gaze. Sighed again. Capitulated. 

"They're not broken," he said wearily, letting Zeb steer him towards a seat. "I'd be a lot less well off if they were broken. Cracked, I think. And the rest is just ... It's all surface. He wanted me to watch what happened to you first. He needed me capable of standing for that." He snorted, just faintly. "More fool him for that, I suppose. If he didn't nurse a sadistic streak I'd be dead by now."

Zeb blinked rapidly. Clenched his hands, hard and convulsive and without meaning to at all. Unfortunately, they were still wrapped around Kallus' shoulders while he was at it. The man winced, stumbled a bit, and Zeb let go of him quickly. A bit _too_ quickly. Kallus staggered sideways and dropped down into the seat rather more harshly than Zeb had either wanted or intended. He winced in his turn, and knelt quickly after him.

"Sorry about that," he said hastily, hands skittering towards the man and then back away. "I didn't ... I'm sorry. Didn't mean to make it worse. Sorry."

 _Karabast_ , just listen to him. Suave as ever, Orrelios. Nicely done. Idiot.

Kallus just laughed breathlessly at him, though. Hitched an arm protectively around his ribs, as much from the pain of laughing as anything else. "Don't," he started. "Don't worry about it. I've had much worse landings, believe me." A pause, then, somewhat involuntary, as they both remembered one landing in particular. Kallus hesitated a bit. He looked up at Zeb, and he was ... He did look tired. He looked very, very tired.

"... Yeah," Zeb said, very quietly. "Yeah, I know."

He would have said more. Probably _should_ have said more. He wasn't sure he trusted himself right now, though. To say too much or to say not enough, he wasn't sure, but he didn't trust himself either way. 

Besides. Kallus seemed to think that said enough of what needed saying too.

They were silent for a bit then, while Zeb peeled and pried the man as carefully as possible out of his upper uniform. He ... didn't hiss at the scattering of injuries that revealed. He'd seen what the Empire did before, and worse than this. It just, it felt different, that was all. Stupid, right? Yeah. Stupid. He ignored it. Checked the man over as best he could, mopped up the bits here or there that needed it. Gently. Wasn't a lot they could do about the ribs until they could get access to bacta. Kallus took it all with exhausted calm. Zeb wasn't surprised. He'd seen the man fight on a broken leg before. He was pretty much done being surprised at how tough the bastard could be.

He apparently _wasn't_ done being affected by it, but he was gonna ignore that too. He was gonna put that one nicely to one side until he knew what to do with it. Hopefully, now that he had the man _here_ and in more or less one piece, he'd have a bit of time to try and manage that now.

Kallus blinked back to some awareness when Zeb picked his shirt back up, dusted it off and handed it back. He fumbled a bit on taking it, startled and exhausted, but his lip curled again as he looked at Zeb. He smiled a tired smile. A bit of his hair had come loose again, flopping down over his bruised eye. Zeb curled his hands hastily on his thighs. No touching. Nope. We're gonna do that later. Er. No, not ... Not _that_ sort of ... Ah _karabast_. 

He reached up, grumpily, and carefully tucked the errant strand back into place. Kallus stared at him. He'd only barely restrained a flinch, at first, and then seemed to stop and freeze with something else entirely. Zeb faltered a bit, but after a second ...

He left his hand curled carefully at the man's temple. He left it resting there. Just for a second. Neither of them spoke. And then:

"... He took it, you know," Kallus said softly. Nonsensically, at least for a minute, until Zeb pulled enough threads of their conversation back together to have an idea what he was on about.

"Your bo-rifle?" he asked gently. Letting his hand settle down onto the man's shoulder instead. "Thrawn? He took it?"

"No," Kallus said. Then grimaced. "Well, yes. That too. That's not ... I meant the meteor. He took it in with my effects. I had to ... I had to leave it."

Zeb ... honestly he just blinked for a second at that. Not at the ... it was more ...

"You kept that?" he asked. Too harshly, too incredulously. He got that when Kallus flushed, ducked his head onto his chest. Zeb regretted that. _Intensely_. He just, he needed a second to catch up. He'd known ... he'd thought it was him, thought it had been what happened on Bahryn that might have changed Kallus, but he hadn't ...

The man had kept the rock? Not just Zeb's questions, not just his view of the Empire, Kallus had actually kept the _meteor itself_? Why? Why would he ...?

"I know it's ridiculous," the ex-agent muttered defensively, hunching in on himself. "I know that. It's just. It was ... Good. It was good. To have some ..." A long pause and then, with a slump of some despair: "Warmth. It was good to have some warmth. That's all."

Warmth. And Zeb _wasn't_ an idiot, thank you, not always, he knew ... He knew it wasn't just physical warmth the man was talking about. It wasn't physical warmth at all. It hadn't been, even back on that moon. The rock had been more than that even then. Zeb just ... he hadn't expected Kallus to _keep_ it. He hadn't ... expected it to matter. That much. To this man. Agent. Spy. _Kallus_.

He exhaled. All right then. So he _was_ thinking about this now then. All right. He could handle that. He could manage that too.

"... I'll get you another one," he said. Bringing his hand back up, cupping it around the man's cheek. Kallus looked up, blinked hard and startled at him. Zeb stared awkwardly, earnestly back. Grimaced faintly. Cradled a battered face. "Meteor. I'll get you another one. And. You know. If. If you needed something. In the interim. We're kind of short on space anyway. You could ... you could bunk with me? If you like. I mean, it didn't go so bad last time? It'd keep you ... keep you warm, anyway. Ah. If, ah." 

Please, please, somebody save him. Somebody shut him up. Now. Please and thank you. But Kallus didn't ... didn't laugh. Didn't laugh at him, didn't ... turn away. Didn't do any of that.

Instead, after a wary, startled second, Kallus smiled at him. Softly. Tiredly.

And very, very warmly.

"Will you promise not to try and elbow me in the face this time?" Kallus asked wryly. Teasingly. Zeb huffed out a breath. Shook his head, stroked a thumb across the man's cheek. 

"If I'm remembering correctly," he answered, equally teasing. "If I'm remembering right, you started that, not me. How about you promise not to elbow _me_ in the face, and we'll ... we'll take it from there. How about that? Sound okay?"

Kallus nodded. Leaned into his hand, his eyes slipping tiredly closed. Dead on his feet. But not dead. Not yet. And not while Zeb had anything to say about it.

"Sounds perfect," the man admitted, very quietly, and yeah. Yeah, Zeb thought.

Yeah, it did.


End file.
